


Brazenly

by jeeno2



Series: Arya x Gendry Week [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, AryaxGendry Week, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kissing, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a fierceness to Arya’s spirit that inflames his senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brazenly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 1 of tumblr's A x G week. The prompt: "Dare."

If Arya Stark’s brothers knew the sorts of things Gendry Waters imagines doing to their sister they’d have him gelded for sure.

Not that they wouldn’t be entirely within their rights.  The King in the North took Gendry in six months ago when he’d had nothing to his name and nowhere to hide.  In exchange for nothing more than his services and a pledge of loyalty to House Stark, King Robb gave him a roof over his head and a proper job as Winterfell’s blacksmith.

Gendry would likely be at the Wall right now, or dead — or something even worse — if it hadn’t been for the kindness House Stark showed, and continues to show, him.

He hadn’t planned to become infatuated with seventeen-year-old Arya, a highborn Lady but unlike any lady he has ever known.  She’s beautiful, yes — but so much more than that.  There’s a fierceness to Arya’s spirit that inflames his senses, and a wicked little temper that utterly entrances him.  Her very presence makes him just as useless as he’d been when he was a green boy of seventeen years himself.

In truth, falling in love with Arya Stark had been effortless and entirely unintentional.  But the fact that Gendry hadn’t meant for it to happen in no way lessens his betrayal.  King Robb no doubt wants Arya married off to some highborn lord who will strengthen the Starks' position in the North through their union.  Not ruined by some nameless bastard who can only offer her love.

Despite all of this, sometimes Gendry thinks Arya might feel the same way he does.  These thoughts are always fleeting, chased away by hot flashes of shame as soon as they pop into his mind.

But  _sometimes_ , when the light in yard hits her gray eyes in just the right way; or when their eyes meet briefly over candlelight if he’s dining with her family; Gendry imagines — if just for a moment — that perhaps Arya yearns for him as much as he does for her.

Gendry doesn’t dare find out, of course.  He can never act on his feelings or show Arya any untoward attention.  By day he’s but the Stark’s dutiful servant.  It is only at night, as he lies awake for hours, that he imagines what Arya Stark’s kisses would taste like, and how her small breasts might feel pressed up against his hands.

* * *

 

The night Arya comes to the forge clad only in her thin nightdress Gendry thinks, at first, that he must be dreaming.  Arya Stark’s half-dressed body features prominently in many of his dreams.  And her boldly striding into the forge without waiting for an invitation is something that happens to him almost every night.

But when Arya throws her very real arms around his neck and swallows his words of surprise with a sweep of her tongue Gendry realizes, in shock, that this is no dream.

Arya’s grip on him is strong, and he pulls away from her with great difficulty.  He looks down into her eyes — fat black pupils swimming within shining silver irises — looking for an answer to a question for which he lacks the proper words.

Finding no answers therein, at length he sighs and shakes his head.

"King Robb will kill me for this," he mumbles stupidly.  His eyes are on the floor.  His face burns with the dueling emotions of shame and desire but he pays that no mind.  Because Arya’s mouth is just a hairsbreadth from his own, and he can feel every breath she takes as a small puff of air against them.  And Robb be damned, he feels like he might  _die_  if doesn’t kiss Arya again.  Soon.

"I want this, Gendry," is all Arya says by way of response.  She kisses him again — soft and sweet and true.  His heart breaks with the gentle earnestness of it, and his arms pull her small body close before he’s realized he’s done it.

"Robb started a war with the Freys so he could marry the lowborn girl he loves," Arya continues, as she deftly undoes the buttons of her nightdress with one hand.  

When she pushes the garment off her shoulders and it puddles on the ground around her feet, Gendry’s breath catches in his throat.  Whether it’s due to how brazenly this beautiful, incredible girl is acting right now, or whether it’s from the sight of her glorious breasts, bare before him in the dim light of the forge, he cannot say.

"So?" Gendry says, weakly, simultaneously terrified about what Robb might do to him in the morning, and powerless to resist Arya’s will as she walks him backwards towards his featherbed.

“ _So_ ,” Arya begins, one eyebrow raised archly.  She shoves him onto his bed without ceremony.  ” _So,_  if Robb says one word about this,  _I’ll_  kill  _him.”_

Gendry chuckles softly in spite of himself.  He doubts very much that the King will be swayed by his younger sister’s threats if he ever learns of tonight.

But then Arya undoes his breeches and takes the full length of him in her hand.  She moves her hand up and down — slowly, and tentatively — never taking her eyes off of his face.

As he holds her gaze, his entire body trembling, Gendry decides that if this is to be his last night on earth, this is the way he’d like to go.

 


End file.
